#waltz's warriors art

[hodinodi]

a branch waltzing w their sapling

[buttercupart]

the youngest Dreemurr, Frisk - child of the human world, ambassador to the monster world, and warrior of peace

[whaledocboi]

idk when or why i made these, but i wont be finishing them so here you go

[elriel-month]

Elriel Month 2025🌸🦇

Hi everyone!

We are so excited to present the official prompt descriptions for the fifth-ever ELRIEL MONTH!! Like the previous few years, we will have two prompts per week that center on different aspects and scenarios of the relationship between Elain and Azriel. We aim to foster a positive space for us to celebrate our favorite Seer and Shadowsinger. Remember to tag us (@elriel-month) to be featured on this page!

We cannot wait to celebrate with you! 🦇🌸💙🗡🌹

Follow us on:

Tumblr ✷ Twitter ✷ Instagram

🎨 Art: tpiola_ (IG) | Comm: bookishbiologist (IG)

Rules and bi-weekly prompts under the break!

RULES:

✷ Participation of each day/prompt is optional!

✷ Ideally, post your art/work on the week of the prompt. However, if you cannot post on time, post whenever you can.

✷ Elriel month will be across Tumblr, Twitter, and Instagram.

✷ If you want to be featured on this blog please tag @elriel-month in your posts so we can reblog them

✷ On Tumblr while posting your piece of work please use the following hashtags:  #elrielmonth #elrielmonth25 #elrielmonth2025

✷ No hate or slander towards other characters!

✷ Your submission can be a fanart, fanfics/oneshots, edits, gifset, moodboard, playlist - anything you deem acceptable.

✷ The final prompt is free choice - you can indulge your own prompt or Elriel fantasy!

✷ Be respectful of other people’s work. Do not repost without permission and credit.

Prompts

Death & the Maiden: May 1-4

In many ways, Elain and Azriel embody the "Death and the Maiden" trope: Elain personified as goodness and light, and Azriel as the broody, dark warrior surrounded by shadows. This prompt is all about exploring Elriel's light and dark aesthetic. How do you see this dynamic playing out?

��: jjflorentina (IG) | Comm: lunepapillons_ (IG) & gigiblodyn (twitter)

Star-Crossed: May 5-7

From the moment Rhys commanded Azriel to stay away from Elain, a great forbidden romance was born. Use this prompt to explore Elriel's star-crossed story: how do you see them defying fate (and their High Lord) to be together, despite the odds?

🎨: lacampanule (IG) | Comm: lazydaisyreads (IG)

Guilty as Sin: May 8-11

It wouldn't be an Elriel Month without an opportunity to explore our favorite couple's sexy sides. For this prompt, it's time to get spicy and highlight the chemistry between Elain and Azriel. Feel free to make things as NSFW as you'd like them to be!

🎨: artyventurer (IG) | Comm: emilysbookishtales (IG)

Free Will & True Love: May 12-14

Throughout the series, SJM emphasizes the importance of choice and free will - and this prompt is your chance to delve into how those things will play out for Elriel. What lengths will they go to choose each other? Will there be a grand "I choose you!" declaration?

🎨: eguardx (IG)| Comm: jasmineandshadows (IG) & purpleunicornc_ (IG)

The Eyes & Ears of the Night Court: May 15-18

With Elain's gifts as a Seer and Azriel's skills as the Spymaster, these two are quite literally the eyes and ears of the Night Court. Let's explore how Elain and Azriel's powers complement each other. Do you imagine them working together? Undertaking spy missions? Using their powers to help one another?

🎨: honeyypears (IG) | Comm: cassianfanclub_ (IG)

Fairytales: May 19-21

We certainly hope that Elain and Azriel have a fairytale romance in their future! For this prompt, indulge all your most whimsical, romantic ideas about Elriel. Maybe you want to explore a fairytale AU, or imagine them waltzing through a ballroom together - let your imagination run wild!

🎨: elainem97 (IG)

Peace & Quiet: May 22-25

As Feyre observes, Elain and Azriel find a peaceful refuge in each other. Use these days to explore Elriel's domestic life. How do you imagine their quiet moments at home? How do they spend their time together, and what hobbies do they share? What is their family life like?

🎨: adduani (IG) | Comm: elain_kingslayer (IG)

Visions of the Future: May 26-28

It's time to channel your inner Elain Archeron and make some predictions: what do you think the future has in store for Elriel? Now's your chance to share all your theories and predictions about how you see the future unfolding for these two lovebirds. The possibilities are endless!

🎨: lynx_illustration (IG) | Comm: duskcowboy_ (IG) & morganssecretgarden (IG)

Free Day: May 29-31

For the final days of Elriel Month, feel free to celebrate Prythian's prettiest couple however you see fit. There's only one rule for this prompt: show your love for Elriel. Beyond that, the sky's the limit!

🎨: salihace (IG) | Comm: lovelyfawnx (IG)

[clingyduoapologist]

On c!Tommy and Selfishness

///

Text Credit: Sir Terry Pratchett, The Wee Free Men

Art Credit: Sad-ist, Dawn of the 16th, The Fall, Final Waltz, Warriors

[dreamlovetarot]

☁️「𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑓𝑢𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑」🏹

left to right: pile 1, pile 2, pile 3

Welcome, 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤 𝐷𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑒𝑟,

as we embark upon a journey through the veils of time. In this celestial reading, we shall unveil the whispers of what your destined beloved shall hold most dear in you. Embrace this ethereal dance with an open heart, and may the stars above sprinkle their magic upon your path.

𝐼𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑚 𝑜𝑓 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚𝑠, 𝐸𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠,

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝒆𝒇𝒇𝒚 ⁓

Enchanting Disclaimer: Let it be known that Tarot's realm, found within these pages, is one of whimsical entertainment. What transpires is my personal interpretation, a delicate thread weaving through the cards' tapestry. Each portrayal, though bathed in speculation, seeks to capture your imagination. As you tread the starlit path of this reading, the harmony between your heart's song and its melodies shall guide you. Tarot's allure, an ethereal waltz, rests upon the tendrils of choice, where your intuition casts its own spell.

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 01

The cards of your destiny: 7 of cups, child: orphan, the sentinel, the twins

Within the realm of your being, an enchanting tapestry unfolds. Your future spouse is drawn to the radiance of your imaginative spirit, finding allure in the way you perceive the world. Your ability to discern opportunity in even the most intricate patterns of life, and your unwavering understanding of choice, create a symphony of admiration.

Your essence weaves dreams into reality, infusing purpose into each step you take. There's a delicate magic in your willingness to dream without restraint, to paint your life with the hues of possibility. This mystical aura you carry isn't tinged with negativity, but rather a sparkling optimism that kindles fascination.

Yet, beyond the ephemeral, your independence shines like a distant star, guiding you to gather knowledge on your own terms. You're a self-sufficient learner, a wanderer across the cosmos of wisdom, and your partner cherishes this self-reliance.

In your stride, your beloved sees a warrior spirit. Your unwavering faith in yourself and your capacity to conquer any challenge bestows you with an aura of courage and resolve. This inner certainty sets you on a path of endless possibilities, a journey your partner deeply admires.

The Twins card whispers of your multi-dimensional nature. You're a puzzle with pieces that delightfully don't always fit together. Your unpredictability paints your journey with intrigue, offering a constant sense of discovery to your partner's heart.

This fusion of dreaminess and autonomy creates a unique alchemy. You master the art of emotional balance, a dance between grounding and flight. Your independence is the armor that shields you, and your dreams are the wings that let you soar.

In this cosmic dance, you embody a spectrum of hues, and your beloved admires everything about your essence, encompassing green, beige, and even the occasional red flag. You are an enigma with layers that continue to captivate. As you navigate your journey, remember the charm that emanates from your fusion of dreams and self-reliance, as it is casting a spell that keeps your partner forever captivated.

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 02

The cards of your destiny: the moon, angel, the aspirant, the runaway

In the tapestry of your future, your beloved finds fascination in your intuitive nature and your profound self-awareness. Your thoughts, akin to twinkling stars, intrigue their curiosity. They are drawn to your emotional transparency, where you fearlessly share your worries and anxieties, offering a glimpse into the depths of your soul.

What truly enchants your future partner is your selflessness, a trait that shines with a brilliance of its own. Your willingness to extend your help without seeking anything in return casts a radiant glow upon your being. You embody a magical essence that radiates empathy and compassion, pulling them into your orbit.

But you're more than an angelic presence; you're a dreamer with aspirations that stretch toward the cosmos. Your ambition and tenacity in pursuing your dreams are evident. Even in the face of challenges, you approach them with open dialogue and a spirit that marches forward undeterred.

The Runaway card, cloaked in mystery, adds a layer of intrigue to your essence. While you're resolute in facing difficulties, there's also a yearning for personal freedom. Your desire to keep certain parts of yourself hidden imparts an air of enigma. This doesn't hinder your ability to connect; rather, it adds a layer of complexity that draws others in.

In your journey, you may momentarily retreat from challenges, but your determination never wavers. Your reliability shines through, especially in supporting others through their tribulations. Your partner is captivated by the unique harmony you embody, a symphony of strength, compassion, and an alluring aura that casts a spell upon their heart

꒰ 🪼 ꒱ؘ ࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𝑃𝑖𝑙𝑒 03

The cards of your destiny: ace of wands, warrior, the heir, the enchanter

Within the enchanting dance of your destined union, your future partner is captivated by the radiant bloom of your creativity. You are a wellspring of inspiration, a vessel brimming with untold possibilities. Like a star yearning to blaze brighter, you embrace growth and new horizons, ensuring that every moment shared is a tapestry of exploration.

In your presence, the strength of galaxies twinkles. Your spouse admires your unwavering fortitude and adeptness, where discipline and unyielding determination harmonize effortlessly. An aura of power surrounds you, untainted by the trappings of ego, allowing you to navigate both your internal landscape and external connections with an elegant grace.

Your self-awareness casts a gentle glow, illuminating both your strengths and vulnerabilities. The Heir card alludes to concealed potential, a treasure trove of abilities awaiting discovery even by you. This interplay between modesty and untapped gifts weaves an enchanting allure that draws your partner closer.

Occasionally, hesitation may cast its delicate shadow upon you. Doubts may cloud your perception of your talents, questioning whether you truly measure up or possess the necessary capability. This humility, coupled with a touch of uncertainty, forms an irresistible magnetism that pulls your partner into your orbit.

In your essence resides the art of transformation, a symphony of alchemy. Your mastery lies in transmuting the mundane into the extraordinary, crafting new dimensions from the threads of everyday life. This isn't manipulation in the conventional sense, but a kind of enchantment that breathes fresh life into situations, relationships, and your artistic pursuits.

Be it as a designer, an artist, or a weaver of light, your innate talent to manipulate and shape scenes entrances your future partner. They're captivated by your ability to reshape perspectives, inviting others to see the world anew through your unique vision.

In their eyes, you shine like constellations in the velvet sky, a mosaic of brilliance. Your creativity, your potential, and your artistic flair are celebrated and cherished. They stand as your most ardent supporter, unwavering in their belief in you. In their gaze, your essence swirls like stardust, a mesmerizing fusion of potential and artistic magic.

© dreamlovetarot 2023 �� where every right is held in delicate embrace 🤍 I kindly ask you not to appropriate, replicate, alter, or disseminate my ethereal content.

[weepingtalecowboy]

Gerudo Wind would grow very quickly

Fanfic prompt : I already made a wind is Gerudo post but now I have thought about it it must be horrible for the chain to deal with

Like riju is already Wild's size at 14

Wind is gonna steal his clothes soon enough

Then his next victim would be Warriors

And if he still wants to cuddle with someone he will take up the entire bed like an overgrown cat

Considering that four is bite sized in comparison to wind

The poor thing would be used like a teddy and probably suffocate under wind's arm strength alone

Not considering if wind rolls over onto him he would probably die from it

But also the stigma of having a Gerudo child that exists in the older timelines

Like time's or twilight’s

Because Time had a war against the Gerudo people in his

And Twilight's hyrule literally banished some of them to the twilight realm

Tension with other hylians who are still against them is a very real possibility

(Even if Wind would take it as a compliment that they see him as a great thief and a menace to society because he is hella talented at it thank you )

Time just keeps getting judged for “cheating“ on his wife and the face everyone makes when he tells them that wind is in fact not his daughter

And when he eventually points at the very tiny short hylian who is actually related to wind and he is is just co parenting

People awkwardly want to know HOW and why

(Four is just continuously making every single thing better because he is wind's predecessor)

But also if he waltzed into a Gerudo town to see the architecture of his predecessors

The sheer amount of fear and anxiety those people would feel when they see a clearly male Gerudo child

Like damn it they just had a whole bunch of problems because of the last king

They can’t recover if a new one comes in right now

It's not even been a decade yet

Still they let wind in because any male born from the Gerudo tribe is to be the next king

And the chain quickly learns to make Wind wear female Gerudo clothing when entering a Gerudo town (with red hair because the more wind looks like a normal Gerudo the better) because the mess of last time was not fun to explain to anyone

(Wind definitely would want Gerudo clothing because the flood erased all the cultures and traditions so something like that would be extremely important if he was to revive Hyrule on a new land)

The whole town

The leadership of the town

Everything was horrible

And chaotic

Riju was not having fun but wind would probably be the nicest king they could ever get (he is welcomed back if he stays like that)

[thevalkyriesshadow]

Moodboard by iris_mindplace on Insta

Gwynriel art credit: venusfolk on Insta

Divider by @strangergraphics-archive

A Waltz of Shadows and Ribbons

A fluffy Gwynriel ficlet inspired by Gwynriel as the Waltz aesthetic!

Gwyn and Azriel meet to rehearse the waltz they'll be performing in the Winter Court while on a mission. The waltz is an elegant, flowing dance that requires trust from both partners...along with lots of hand holding and touching.

Gwyn entered the great hall of The House. A room she’d never been in. One that she hadn’t ventured in yet in the handful of months she’d been living here. When she received the note from Azriel that this was where they’d be rehearsing she was admittedly nervous. A grand ballroom with only Azriel and Gwyn inside, occupying the room. Touching. Holding. Dancing with each other…

Read the rest under the cut or here on AO3!

Wiping the nervous sweat onto her Priestess robes, Gwyn gawked at the space as she entered. Windows that stretched from floor to ceiling showed the beautiful setting sun outside. Velaris was on display tonight, with lights twinkling against the deep oranges, rosy pinks, and soothing purples of the nighttime coming to life around them. 

Intricate moulding outlined the windows and edges of the room in a leafy pattern. Her eyes followed them around the perimeter, inspecting every aspect. Admiring the way the designs sprawled and converged together, creating a space that felt like art itself.

Faelights sparked to life in the sconces around the room, making Gwyn jump and gasp at the hissing sound as they flickered brightly until settling to a perfect, warm glow. Even a few floated above her head. Gwyn reached up to touch one, but it floated just out of her reach. Of course they were safety proof against curious minds like hers.

She studied the floor then, the bright marble mottled with a grey design, no doubt picked to hide scuff marks from the countless shoes that would dance across it. Her flat shoes whispered along as she travelled across the tiled floor. 

Her attention was pulled everywhere. Every new detail jumped out at her until a shadow passed in front of her, pulling her attention away from the magnificent chandeliers dripping with crystals to the darkest corner of the room.

Gwyn nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized someone was standing there.

Her hand flew to her chest, “Azriel –” she gasped. Then her eyes narrowed, her hands on her hips as she shot at him, “How long have you been standing there?”

A small curl formed at the corner of the Spy Master’s mouth, “Long enough.” He stepped out from the shadows. His wings tucked high and proud behind him, no doubt chuffed with himself that he caught her off guard. He wasn’t in his usual leathers, choosing a pair of black pants and a black button down instead. The material hugged the muscles that bulged when he moved, tightening around his warrior form. Gwyn hoped she looked half as cool in her Priestess robes as he did in his casual attire.

Azriel scanned her robes, his gaze simmering as his throat bobbed and he said, “I’m glad you chose a dress. As that is what you’ll be wearing for our mission.” He eyed the hem of the soft blue silk, “What shoes are you wearing?”

Straight to business with this one. “My flats. It’s these or my training shoes.”

Azriel waved a hand, “No worries.” A pair of sparkling silver heels dropped beside her, no doubt provided by The House. The faelights twinkled around them as if confirming Gwyn’s suspicions.

She bent and scooped up the heels – the extremely tall heels… “I – these are really tall. Are you sure –”

“If you can’t handle a pair of three inch heels, then maybe this mission isn’t for you,” Azriel replied, his voice low, but his tone playful.

Gwyn huffed, kicked off her flats, sat on the floor, and put her shoes on in the most unladylike fashion. She stood, a tad wobbly to start, but she stood. And she breathed out at that. “There. Step one. Done. What’s next?” She put her fisted hands back on her hips, looking a lot more confident than she felt.

Gwyn had never danced professionally, or with any sort of training for that matter. She literally felt like a fish out of water, and she was more nervous than a Lady before her coronation day. 

She had nearly fainted when Rhys asked her to be a part of this mission. Her qualifications as a scholar and warrior made her top choice. Seeing as Rhys needed some sort of information from the Libraries of the Winter Court. 

But in order to complete the mission, she’d need a partner. Cue her next wave of nerves when Azriel, her best friend and long time crush (a secret she held near and dear to her heart) was paired with her. Then she all but fell over when Rhys told her she’d need to know how to dance as part of their guise for being in the Winter Court.

Now here they were, their first waltzing lesson and Gwyn thought she’d explode with nerves and excitement.

“Well first,” Azriel began, sauntering closer to Gwyn. She’d guess that he was the epitome of chill, if it weren’t for his shadows that twirled excitedly around the talons of his wings. The dark tendrils seemed to buzz with anticipation as he drew near. They really did give away everything hidden beneath that cool exterior. And it settled something in her that she wasn't the only one feeling apprehensive for the task at hand. “We need to warm up.” He stopped a few feet from her. His cedar and night-chilled mist scent wrapped around her. “We don’t need you pulling anything before the mission.”

And with that, Azriel and Gwyn began their warm up. Pliés and relevés, sashays and twirls across the floor. Azriel was patient, showing Gwyn everything. By the time their warm up was done, she was sweating and panting for water. They hadn’t even begun waltzing and her legs were already worn out and tired.

“Ready to waltz?” Azriel kept his hands tucked behind his back as he walked out to the middle of the floor, waiting for her to join.

Clearing her throat and holding her head up high (She would not let Azriel see how exhausted she was already), she followed him.

“The first, and most important thing to remember about a waltz, is the timing. There’s a distinct one-two-three, one-two-three, you follow.” Music began to play gently throughout the hall, coming from a small, orb-like object off to the side. Gwyn recognized it as Nesta’s Symphonia. 

She watched Azriel as he stepped forward with his left, to the side with his right, then his left foot following. Counting out the one-two-three as he did so. Gwyn copied him.

“Wait, you’ll be doing this –” He stood side by side with her showing her how her right foot would go back, and her left to the side.

She huffed, “Wouldn’t it be easier to, oh I don't know, have us in the proper positions while you show me?” She turned to face Azriel, her new height difference bringing her to look directly in his eyes, rather than needing to glance up slightly. She had to admit, the heels made her feel more and more confident the longer she wore them. Azriel on the other hand – his confidence wavered; his hands slid behind his back again.

She understood then what was bothering him. What would come back and haunt him from time to time. Healing was a journey, one Azriel would always be embarking on. A journey Gwyn promised she’d take with him. Without missing a beat, she grabbed his elbows and slid her hands down to his wrists, pulling them out from behind his back until she was holding his scarred fingers in hers. His puckered skin was rough and cool against her calloused, freckled skin.

“If we’re going to be a believable pair on the dance floor, I’m going to need to hold your hands Azriel – or have them hold me in whatever way they hold a partner for the waltz.” She glanced down at his hands, then up to his face where he wore a warm smile.

He cleared his throat and nodded, “Right, um –” His voice was a bit shaky as he started. But Gwyn was patient. Waiting for him when he was ready. He guided her left hand to his shoulder, tucking his own under her arm. “Hold your elbow up. I’m supporting you, but not really. It’s more of an illusion. It’ll look sloppy and lazy if you just let it sit.” Her heart pounded against her rib cage as his hands slid over and around her, His fingertips dancing across the expanse of her back.

She gave him a wry smile and followed his instructions, holding her elbow aloft. “Okay. Now what?”

“Then,” he began, his voice stronger this time, he took her right hand in his, cupping his palm against hers, “I hold your hand here, again, keep your elbow up. If I let go, your arms shouldn’t falter. They should be steady and hold true. Like a statue. This is called a closed hold.” She nodded. Straightening her posture and holding herself like said statue. 

Her breasts brushed his chest, his large hand that was firmly placed between her shoulder blades pushed her closer to him. 

Everything stilled for a moment. Her cheeks heated under the Shadowsinger’s gaze. He was so close. His lips mere inches from hers. She could feel his chest against hers, rising and falling, as he breathed. His eyes searched her face, wildly scanning – “Is this okay?” He asked, breathless. His eyes dropped to her lips as she answered as breathlessly as he.

“Yes.”

He nodded, “Good. Um, now –” His left foot moved. “Right back…to the side…yes, slow. Take your time – careful!” Gwyn’s heel caught under her and she wobbled slightly, but Azriel held her to stay standing. “Good?” He waited for her nod after her initial embarrassment, and continued. “Again.”

Over and over they practiced the first basic step until they were gliding in a straight line across the floor. One boxy waltz step after another. By the end of the lesson, Gwyn could do it with her eyes closed. Azriel could back away and her posture held firm as he watched her glide by herself. Interrupting her here and there to correct the tilt of her torso or the position of her toes.

Many of their rehearsals were the same. They’d practice a specific step over and over until Gwyn could do it in her sleep. Until every move was second nature. 

And every rehearsal brought Azriel closer to accepting that his scars would be on display. She couldn’t be sure, but she felt that her complete acceptance and gratitude for his mottled hands helped to put him at ease. The more they touched, the more flair he put into his arm work. The more his hands found hers, the more she melted at every touch. 

Having Azriel in her space, so close, touching her back and hips and hands everyday was rewarding. But it drove her mad as she constantly had to focus on stifling her scent. Focus on the dance moves rather than his stupidly handsome face and the way his sweat soaked hair clung to his forehead.

It drove her to the point of incessantly touching herself when she got back to her room after rehearsal. Imagining Azriel’s thick, scarred hands traveling down her sides, across her hips, curling between her legs... This waltzing practice was only scratching the surface of that itch.

The time had come to start focusing on the more difficult moves she’d need for the mission and Gwyn was not prepared for what came next.

“Today…we’re going to tackle the intricate pas de deux that comes before the end of this particular waltz,” Azriel announced.

Gwyn tilted her head and teased, “You talk as if it’s hard to do? I think you’ve forgotten. I’m an expert now.” Gwyn twirled and sashayed around the room before coming back to Azriel who stood in the middle of the ballroom, now smiling ear to ear.

He ducked his head as Gwyn box stepped up to him, holding her arms out, ready to take him across the floor. 

Azriel chuckled and picked his head back up, licking across his lips before saying with a sigh, “You’re facing the wrong way.”

Gwyn’s brows rose and knitted together in confusion, “What?”

Placing his hands on her shoulders, he smoothed them down her arms, forcing her to relax her hold. Then with a twirl of his finger he said, “Turn around, Priestess.” Gwyn swallowed, but followed his command, turning until her back was to his. 

She waited. Wondering what he could possibly be doing. Then his breath tickled her ear, “Traditionally, this waltz is a celebration of relationships of any kind – with this section of the dance showing true trust and dependability.” He brought his hand around her shoulders, holding out a thick black ribbon. “They tie a ribbon around each other’s eyes and complete the rest of the dance blindfolded.”

Gwyn shivered at Azriel’s nearness, how his chest pressed to her back. The curve of her ass against his hips. “We have to do the rest of the dance – blindfolded?”

Azriel hummed, “Yes.” His other hand came to rest against her hip as he continued, “How does that make you feel?”

Honestly? 

Horny as hell. But she couldn’t say that.

So instead she said, “Nervous…unsure, but intrigued. Show me.”

Azriel made an approving sound behind her, the deep tone of it sending a vibration down her spine before he brought the ribbon to her eyes and tied it around her head. 

She was met with complete darkness, with the tiniest sliver of light at the bottom. Not enough to help her see a godsdamn thing, but enough to give her a thrill of not exactly knowing what was going to happen next.

A few steady, pounding heartbeats passed before she heard his voice again. This time directly in front of her. “Now you put the blindfold on me,” he said, lifting her hand and placing a silky smooth ribbon in her palm. 

Careful not to poke him in the eye, Gwyn felt for his face, her hands cupping his chin first. She felt the muscles in his cheeks pull up forming a small smile. She thumbed his sharp cheekbones, then placed the ribbon across his eyes and around the back of his head. Tying it off, she kept her hands on him, letting them settle on his shoulders. 

“Perfect,” he said, his voice low and husky. He cleared his throat and took her hips in his hands, pulling her into him. “This particular waltz combines the elegance and grace of a waltz, but the passion of lovers.” 

The heat was palpable between them as they got into the basic waltz stance. Azriel’s touch felt charged, prickling with anticipation. Gwyn’s breath was heavy, her heart pounding as she relied on Azriel’s guidance, his hands pawing her as he began to show her the delicate twirls and intricate box steps they’d perform together. 

They came to a sudden stop after their set of combinations and Azriel, from behind her, said, “Here you’ll spin, twice, coming around to face me – plié – then I lift you, before bringing you back down to finish out the dance with a pose of our choosing.” His fingers slid up her arms, goosebumps forming in their wake as he urged her to lift them and show off her long lines before she spun…once, twice…just as he instructed. 

She dropped into a plié and just as she started to spring back up, Azriel’s large hands grabbed her under her arms and lifted her – she squealed, not expecting to be lifted so high.

Then she was being lowered down, slowly, sliding against Azriel. First her thighs, her dress rising as she dropped down. Then her hips and stomach until she was chest to chest with the Shadowsinger. Their breaths heavy and panting in a syncopated rhythm.

His lips were again, so close, their noses brushing. If she tilted her head up…

“Not bad,” Azriel said, his words hot on her skin, “Again. This time without the squeal.”

She was on fire. Every part of her body shivered and shook with anticipation everytime they started this section of the routine anew. 

It was challenging to dance in such a fashion. Those Winter Court couples must love to torture each other. But…Gwyn loved it. She loved the closeness she felt with Azriel. The romantic air of the dance, even though they weren’t a thing, was palpable. The added blindfold made it feel like the accomplishment of a lifetime every time they completed the dance with little to know mistakes.

It took hours…days, to perfect the dance, like a relationship – it takes time. It takes care and attention and…love. The poetry of dance was beautiful and this dance? The waltz? It was steeped in that elegance and freedom of expression. A dance that is a clean slate for the partners to do with as they pleased. To tell their own story.

It was the last day of rehearsing with Azriel. Tomorrow they’d be in the Winter Court, dancing and gliding across a different marbled floor, performing an intimate dance in front of others –

And it was intimate, hers and Azriel’s rendition of the dance at least. She could feel it every time they held hands. Every time they touched and turned with each other. Every time the dance ended they were left breathing heavily, panting for each other.

Every time their noses would nust together, their fingers grasping... 

Gwyn wanted him and if she wasn’t mistaken – Azriel wanted her too.

Someone had to take that leap. Someone had to take those tangible moments of romance and ignite that spark.

So when Gwyn walked into the ballroom that evening, she’d called over to Azriel who was taking the Symphonia out of his bag and said, “I have an idea for the end pose for our dance!”

Azriel stood tall, brows raised, “Oh?”

Gwyn nodded, “Mhmm…but I can’t tell you.”

“And why’s that?”

She shrugged, “I think it’ll speak for itself.”

Azriel rolled his eyes, letting a small smile play on his lips as he sauntered towards Gwyn. His hands were in his pockets, exuding cool power as he joined her in the middle of the dance floor.

“Well then let us wait no further.” Azriel scooped his arms beneath hers, supporting her. “Ready Berdara?” 

“Ready Shadowsinger,” She replied, squaring her shoulders and getting into their starting pose. Nervous butterflies flitted about her stomach. 

Her head was turned to the side, looking off across the ballroom. She couldn’t see Azriel’s face, but she felt the way he inched closer, saw his shadows swirling excitedly around any part of their body’s that touched.

The Symphonia came to life and the two began their dance.

Gwyn and Azriel twirled across the floor. The first section of their dance comes to them like second nature. They swooped and tilted together, holding each other in a firm, assured hold as their feet stepped in time with the music flowing from the musical device.

She could feel the skirt of her dress hug and fall around her legs as she moved, Azriel’s thighs brushing hers occasionally, his body a constant next to hers. They danced as if they were on cloud nine. As if they had no other worries in the world.

The time for them to don their ribbons had arrived. As practiced, over and over, Gwyn came to a gentle halt in front of Azriel, her back to his chest and her left arm extended out. Reaching…reaching, until arcing up and back. She bent her arm, her fingers brushing the side of Azriel’s face, a tender gesture; a distraction really. It gave Azriel time to take the ribbon from his pocket and wrap it around her eyes. 

With adept hands and practiced movements, Azriel was standing before Gwyn, her hands roaming up his chest, slowly. Feeling. Exploring. Before finding his face, and donning his ribbon.

Her heart raced, her palms slightly shaking. 

Their pas de deux began.

Three standard box steps, arcing across the floor, before Azriel took Gwyn’s hand, twirling her out from him. He tugged her back, releasing her so she could hold her arms above her head while she spun around and around in a line of quick turns until she found herself back in Azriel’s arms.

His hands wrapped around her waist, halting her oscillation so she faced away from him. Scarred fingers danced up her sides, sliding higher and higher, his fingertips just brushing the sides of her breasts. Gwyn breathed out, feeling the exhilaration of the spins spiral out into a coiled pleasure. She raised her arms as his touch traveled along them until his fingers were lacing with hers.

Arcing and stretching into each other, the most intimate section of the dance played out. Azriel touched and Gwyn turned, melting into him. Gwyn kicked a leg out and Azriel sashayed along with her. A story of a female and a male, growing together, worshiping each other –

They came to that sudden halt and Gwyn’s legs shook. This was it. 

She spun once…twice…plié…jump. Azriel held her. Firm and true. Held her longer than he ever had before gently then ever so gently, he brought her down – turning slowly. 

Her toes touched the floor, her weight distributed from the balls of her feet, to her heels. 

Here we go…

Gwyn’s hands slid up Azriel’s torso, the Shadowsinger stilling beneath her touch. Realizing this was her secret addition. She heard him breathe out as she travelled higher and higher, gliding over slick sweat skin and into damp hair.

Azriel’s breath was ragged, his chest heaving as she rose up into a relevé, and kissed him.

The music hit a crescendo, driving forth the eruption of nerves and excitement that lived within her. Azriel stilled – but only for a moment, surprised by the unseen act of romance. A second later, his fingers tightened around her hips and he tugged her closer, his mouth slanting with hers as he deepened the kiss. 

As suddenly as she surged up and kissed him, she stopped and came back down on her heels, peeling away her ribbon. Taking in the sight of Azriel’s half-masked face peering down blindly at her before reaching up and letting his ribbon fall away. 

His cheeks tinged pinked, his hazel eyes shining with admiration in the dim light of the ballroom. 

The shadows around the room pulsed and the moonlight glowed brighter as it streaked through the windows, something sparking between them. 

“Gwyn,” Azriel breathed. 

“Azriel,” she replied.

The corner of his mouth twitched as he said, “That was our best run, but…”

“But?” 

“I think we need to run that last part again.” His eyes twinkled before he leaned in. His nose and lips grazed hers before he pressed his lips to hers again. Gwyn melted, taking in the feel of his mouth soft against hers, the way he tasted as they explored. Every tingling nerve ending exploded again and again the longer they kissed, the longer they held each other. Hands grabbed at shirt colors, fingers danced across shivering bare arms.

Gwyn let out the softest whimper as Azriel pulled away. He gazed down at Gwyn, his lips wet, his eyes blown wide. “I like your addition, Gwyn.”

She raised a brow, “Do you? I couldn’t tell.”

Azriel chuckled and he brought his hands up to cup her face and kiss her again, gently. And way too quickly, “From the top?” he asked.

“From the top,” she repeated, a smile blooming across her face. He took her hand as she passed him the ribbons and entered the dance floor, holding Gwyn out like a goddess to be revered. 

The music flowed out of the Symphonia, and Gwyn and Azriel’s pas de deux began again.

[nestaismommy]

Elain leaned forward. “You only think you know—you haven’t seen her on the dance floor. That’s when Nesta truly lets the wolf roam free. When there’s music.”

“Really?” Nesta had told him once, when he’d dragged her out of a particular seedy tavern, that she’d been there for the music. He’d ignored her, thinking it an excuse.

“Yes,” Elain said. “She was trained in dance from a very young age. She loves it, and music. Not in the way I enjoy a waltz or gavotte, but in the way that performers make an art of it. Nesta could bring an entire ballroom to a halt when she danced with someone.”

So we could have gotten Nesta dancing which is something she enjoys, that would definitely help her mental health

Instead we got Nesta being forced to train and become a warrior

[oddmawd]

THE SIGHT UNSEEN - Chapter 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance"

SUMMARY: Yamato Rei pays the bills by telling fake fortunes to unwitting suckers... or so she thinks. Turns out half her customers are demons and her lying ass has been predicting the future with uncanny accuracy for years. On account of her growing reputation, Rei just landed on the radar of the same demon who murdered her aunt, and her only hope of survival is a mirror haunted by the ghost of an ancient warrior queen, her burgeoning psychic powers, and a certain Spirit Detective and his friends. Specifically the pretty one with red hair who seems to see right through her... Kurama is as mysterious as he is beautiful, and when Rei must stay at Genkai’s temple for protection on the eve of Yusuke and Keiko’s wedding, she finds herself growing closer and closer to the one man who’s sworn to keep everyone at arm’s length. But both Kurama and Rei hide behind high walls of their own creation, and it’ll take more than their eventual friends-with-benefits arrangement to see those walls come crumbling down — provided the demons hunting Rei don’t tear her limb from limb, first.

TAGS & CONTENT WARNINGS

PAIRINGS: Kurama/OC, Yusuke/Keiko

RATING:  E(xplicit) (MDNI, 18+) (but this chapter is T+)

WORD COUNT: 12.3k for chapter 24

GENRE: Supernatural Romance

FANDOM: Yu Yu Hakusho

TAGS: Opposite of a slow burn, friends with benefits, mutual pining until it explodes, mystery, being stalked by demons, fortune telling, supernatural powers, inheritance, hair loss (main character has alopecia and is mostly bald), insecurity, family trauma, found family, new friends, weddings, 

WARNINGS: N/A for chapter 24

This fic is exclusively hosted on Archive of Our Own

CHAPTER 24: "Rei's Nine Lives of Conversation Avoidance" - Excerpt

As soon as Rei ascertained with (somewhat relative) certainty Kurama would no longer be able to see her bright red face, Rei covered her face with her hands and screamed.

Well, sort of. She kind of mimed screaming, if that makes sense, with lots of air rushing up her windpipe and her face contorting into an impressive mimicry of Edvard Munch’s most iconic work, and she was only just a fraction louder than that particular work of art. She whisper-screamed into the void and staggered haphazardly around the unfortunate stretch of porch that bore witness to her dramatics, throwing herself at railings and support poles and sliding down them until she lay in a heap upon the floor. Then, as a bamboo deer scare popped nearby, she rolled around a bit, face still buried in her hands, dragging her fingers down her cheeks as she held back screeches of embarrassment, mortification, and shock at her own goddamn audacity.

Because holy fucking shit, gang — Rei was a bad bitch of the highest order with confidence to spare and an ass that just won’t quit, but propositioning Kurama to his face was bold even by her standards. She was long past her fun party-girl phase and hadn’t been so forward with a potential sexual partner in years. She was pursuing a master’s degree in library sciences, for fuck’s sake! What the hell had gotten into her?

Rei was a confident person, sure. She’d taken her clothes off in front of a crowd, danced in a tiny dress in front of judges without breaking a sweat, and worn a wig in a windstorm for a photo shoot, but even she wasn’t usually that brazen with an overture. She’d all but crafted an engraved invitation beckoning Kurama to waltz his (very fine) ass right back into her bed!

But then again, it was easy to be confident when you had a cheat code. A little inside scoop, if you will. Because a certain very interesting prophetic dream glimpsed in the bottom of Rei's teacup still hadn’t come true. That future moment hadn’t happened yet, and that meant…

Still lying prone upon the porch, Rei shivered. Things were not over between the two of them, she was sure of it.

Eventually she managed to scrape herself off the floor and head indoors. Sooner was better than later for floor-scraping, Rei thought. After all, Kurama had indicated he would follow her inside for a cup of coffee (a literal one, not the metaphorical cup one might use to lure a hookup to your apartment for the evening, but Rei digressed as she was wont to do when held in the grip of slutty panic). Seeing her rolling around like a cat who’d gotten into the nip stash would probably kill any chances she had with the reserved man, anyway. As it stood, despite her inside scoop leading the way, she wasn’t entirely sure if he’d ever want to speak to her again — not with the level of intimacy they’d been sharing up until that point, at least. He’d probably back off a bit now that so many lines had been crossed. Or maybe “playing it cool” meant he’d never speak to her again for as long as they lived.

Either way, she’d follow his lead. That much she could handle.

And in what was perhaps a bit of cosmic foreshadowing, Himiko had given Rei the silent treatment. After tucking Kurama in for the night, she’d worried the old queen would give her an earful as soon as her head hit the pillow, but nope. Himiko had remained as silent as the grave she had avoided by sealing herself into that ancient mirror. No dream visits had occurred, not even to scold Rei for co-sleeping with the fox demon Himiko loved warning her about. That seemed like a prime moment for a great-great-great-great-grandmotherly lecture. Rei wasn’t entirely sure what the unexpected silence might bode in its stead.

Dreams untroubled, Rei had awoken that morning to find Kurama sleeping soundly at her side. Bastard was pretty even with his hair rumpled and teeth unbrushed, clothes hanging off his toned chest like a model carefully staged to look both elegant and disheveled in the early morning light. God, Kurama was in way better shape than Rei had expected him to be. He had a dancer’s body, by Rei's estimations: lithe and strong with muscles easily hidden beneath tailored slacks and collared shirts. But with his shirt unbuttoned and tits out, so to speak (scratches from her nails still trailing down to his taut abs, she noted), he was positively delicious. It had taken quite a bit of willpower to not wake him then and there and discover how down to clown he was without alcohol flooding his system. Instead she’d left him in her bed and gone to bathe, scrubbing herself from top to bottom with some of the fancy, strongly scented soap Botan had brought with her to the shrine. No telling how good demons’ senses of smell were. She knew Kurama would want privacy, and she had done her best to accommodate his expected anxieties by stripping the lingering scent of roses and earth from her skin.

How she’d kept a straight face in front of Hokushin when she ran into him in the hall just afterward was beyond her. He’d come storming through just as she exited the onsen, the demon clearly panicked about something, and his eyes had bugged when he saw her coming. In his fist he carried an empty bottle of sake — the exact same bottle a furtive Yusuke had asked Keiko to put away somewhere the night before. Rei had gone with Keiko at the time, and they’d placed it on a table with the other liquor. Neither had thought much of it in the moment, but now, seeing the look on Hokushin’s face…

“Yamato-san.” He held the bottle out, beady eyes intent on her face. “Did you see who drank this?”

“Drank…?” She blinked at him innocently, quick mind was already doing some rather unfortunate math. “No, sorry. Was it important?”

While he babbled about precious wedding-night gifts and unbreakable Alaric consummation traditions and mildly aphrodisiacal wines, she’d crunched the appropriate numbers and realized exactly what Kurama must have been sipping on all evening. But while she felt bad for Hokushin, who was even balder than she was and therefore an automatic friend to Rei, she hadn’t told him she suspected Kurama had imbibed the dubious wedding present. Instead she’d directed him toward Chu, wherever he was, in a classic misdirect toward the insatiable drunk.

“Chu?” Hokushin’s brow furrowed. “He prefers his ogre-killer.”

“True,” said Rei sagely, “but he was coming onto me all night, and if that liquor has the effect you claim it does…”

Hook, line, sinker. Hokushin had taken the bait and stormed off with gutting Chu like a fish on his mind, and Rei — feeling accomplished at her subterfuge, and mildly vengeful toward Chu after the evening prior — had gone to the kitchen to make coffee. That’s where Kurama had found her, and then he’d pulled her into the woods, and then she’d propositioned him because oh god oh god oh god, she’d lost her damned mind! 

But dwelling on her lapses in sanity wouldn’t do anyone any good, least of all Rei, so right back into the kitchen she went. She’d made allusions of breakfast to Kurama, after all, and she wasn’t the type to go back on a promise.

This time, however, she found the kitchen occupied by Keiko, who stood over the brewing coffee pot with eyes like a sleepy hawk’s. Botan yawned behind her at the kitchen table, looking in similar need of caffeine. Sleepy though she appeared, Keiko glanced at Rei askance, eyes roving over her in an assessing sweep.

But it was Botan who spoke, smile drowsy and soft. “You’re up awfully early, Yamato.”

Rei laughed as she slipped into the chair beside Botan. “Back atcha.”

Keiko nodded at the coffee maker. “You put the pot on?”

“Yeah.”

“Bless you.” Keiko sighed, relieved. “I need it.”

“Up late?”

“Yes.” Keiko fought back a yawn. “But I’ve got too much to do to be sleeping in.”

“You should let Yusuke know,” Rei said with a slow smile of her own, “before he drags you off for another midnight garden makeout session.”

Keiko gasped. “You saw that!?”

“A good Fixer has eyes and ears everywhere.”

While Keiko grumbled about Yusuke keeping his hands to himself, flushing a pretty shade of pink all the while, Rei busied herself prepping breakfast and pretending she hadn't just intentionally deflected the conversation away from whatever the hell she had been up to last night. Far better to embarrass Keiko into changing the subject herself than have her ask the reciprocal question of “Gee Rei, what did you get up to everyone else was sleeping? Fuck any foxes?” And with Botan sitting right there, this was a question Rei simply could not tolerate. Yes, yes, shift the narrative, Keiko…no one will suspect a thing…

And the tactic appeared to work, because Keiko immediately looked away, cleared her throat, and launched into a monologue. “Anyway. I have a lot of my plate today,” she said, looking anywhere but at Rei. “Mostly just making sure the logistics are in order. Flowers on time, the cake delivery, and of course the guests, more decor…” She stopped counting on her fingers when the dulcet sounds of ‘Fur Elise’ began to play from her pocket on tiny speakers. “Oh, speak of the devil, that’s probably the wedding band. Give me a second…”

Leave it to Keiko to have such a classy ring-tone, Rei thought to herself. She watched with a satisfied (dare I say it, smug) smile as Keiko left the kitchen. The bride-to-be looked quite grateful to have somewhere else to be if Rei was judging the sheepish look on her face accurately…

But Rei had lightly miscalculated the situation, because Botan was definitely still in the kitchen and absolutely gearing up to ask a question of her own, if the serious expression she aimed in Rei’s direction were any indication. Luckily the grim reaper had other things on her mind and asked an innocuous question; privately, Rei’s nerves deflated somewhat.

“Say, Yamato. Keiko and I were talking, and we were wondering — what do you plan to wear to the wedding?” Botan spoke with a degree of hesitation Rei didn't quite understand, as if worried about causing offense. “You packed in an awful hurry, and you didn’t get much warning that you’d be attending a wedding of all things…

Oh, so that was it. “Don’t worry,” Rei said. “I came prepared.”

Botan looked surprised (and Rei felt nearly offended after all). “You did? Really?”

“My friend,” said Rei with grave solemnity, “|I don’t travel anywhere without at least two evening looks in tow.”

“Wait, seriously?”

“Oh yeah.” She had to suppress a laugh; to someone like Rei, the alternative was positively absurd. “Former ballroom dancer, hardcore girl’s girl — I have never traveled light in my entire life, and no amount of homicidal, eyeball-eating demons could hope to cramp my style.” But because Botan still looked adorably skeptical, Rei explained, “I brought three full sized suitcases on this little venture, if that tells you anything. At least two dresses in them ought to work for the wedding. I could even do an outfit change for the reception.”

The I-don’t-want-to-offend-you expression was back in full force. “Keiko will want to see the looks, if you don’t mind. Is that all right?”

“What, it’s not a color-coded dress code or something, is it?”

“No, she’s not that fussy.” Botan hesitated a moment. “But she does want to make a good impression on the demonic dignitaries.” Her eyes dropped, nervous. “So…”

Ah. So that was it. When it came to event attendance, Botan and Keiko had only seen Rei in some of her more egregious outfits: the men's-suit-with-no-shirt-on-underneath-and-a-neon-party-wig ensemble she had worn to the bachelor party, and her truly unfortunate Eastern European fortune teller get-up from the first night they’d all met, neither of which was sure to inspire much confidence in Rei’s ability to dress herself for a formal wedding. But Rei wasn't offended that Botan and Keiko wondered if she had packed wedding-appropriate attire before their madcap rush to reach the temple. Rei had been running around in spandex workout gear while training with Genkai, too, which was also the opposite of good wedding attire. Hell if Rei would ever begrudge a bride for caring about the appearance of her guests, especially if some of them were dignitaries from another dimension.

Another dimension. Jesus tap-dancing Christ. Rei would never get used to that.

“Oh, don't worry,” said Rei. “I have just put the doctor ordered. Or just what the wedding planner ordered. Whatever whoever is in charge ordered, I have, so — ”

The kitchen door burst open. Keiko stormed inside. She paced over to the stove and swiped up a coffee cup before snatching the coffee pot from its cradle. The coffee was still dripping from the filter, but she didn't appear to care, letting precious drops of it spill all over the overflow tray in her haste to get caffeine in her system. As soon as she could, she tossed back a shot with a grimace, face red, but probably not just because she had downed a scalding mouthful of coffee.

Call it a hunch, but when Keiko exclaimed “Oh, this is terrible!” with the expression of a person who’d just slipped and fallen in cow manure, Rei got a feeling her prediction was right on the money.

“Are you OK, Keiko?” Botan said. “Whatever is the matter?”

Keiko’s eyes flashed wild. “The band just canceled!”

“What?!”

“The band, the wedding band — they canceled!” Keiko threw up her hands, coffee sloshing over her bare wrist. She cursed and said, “They just played some festival and they all came down with the flu. The singer could barely even talk on the phone, he was so sick.”

Botan put a hand to her cheek “That’s terrible!”

“The wedding is the day after tomorrow.” Keiko moaned, cradling her singed wrist. “What am I going to do?”

“He didn’t have a replacement for you?” Rei asked with a frown.

“No. Should he have?”

“Most bands have friends in the community they can call if something like this happens." She had worked with enough of them in her day to know that much for sure. “And most contracts have a cancellation clause, too.”

“Well, he didn’t mention it, and I don’t remember what the contract said.” Keiko wrenched out her phone, fingers tapping franticly at the screen. “Do I have a copy handy? Oh, what am I going to do?”

“Could we call Koto, Juri and Ruka?” Botan asked. “They’re attending the wedding, so maybe their contacts — "

“Wait.” Rei stared at Botan in rapidly mounting shock. “Not that Koto, Juri and Ruka, right?”

The Demon Trio — an idol group that had debuted some years prior and reached meteoric heights in the Japanese entertainment world, whose fame and notoriety soon went international, cementing them as bonafide superstars all over the world. Their whole schtick was that they wore fake ears and tails (Juri and Koto) and did magic on stage as part of their act (Ruka), staying strictly in-character as supernatural beings while singing, dancing, and performing their very pretty asses off. Hell, their first album was called ‘Sirens,’ and it goes without saying they’d leaned into the gimmick whole hog.

At least, Rei had assumed it was all a gimmick. Like the rest of the world, Rei had chalked up their anatomical accoutrement to some kind of bizarre costuming choice. But with everything Rei had learned about the world (or worlds, to be more precise) over the past few days, she got the sense the Demon Trio’s little act may not have been an ‘act’ at all.

And like a guillotine coming down to sever Rei’s perception at the neck, Botan looked at her, sighed, and admitted: “Yes, that Koto, Juri and Ruka.”

“Oh my god,” said Rei.

“They’re old friends of ours,” said Keiko.

“Oh my god.”

“And they’re an instrumental part of the integration of demons into the world of humans,” added Botan.

“Oh my god!”

Botan smiled sympathetically at Rei, who had begun staring at the wall with the expression of a particularly stressed-out lobotomy patient. “You doing OK there, Yamato?”

“Oh, y’know. Just recalibrating my view of society and reality at large. Again.” Rei draped her arm over her eyes, head tipping backward over the back of her chair. “Every day at Genkai’s shrine is a new revelation for me, ya boy.”

Keiko hummed under her breath. “That’s not a bad idea to reach out to them, though. They have to know someone, right? At least a DJ…” She let out a groan. “And the band was supposed to play the wedding march!”

Keiko left the room in a hurry to make the call, Botan looking appropriately horrified on her behalf. Rei felt terrible for her too, of course. The wedding was the day after tomorrow, and here they were without a band for the reception. Sure, Rei could offer to DJ the party with her phone hooked up to a speaker (she certainly had an extensive enough music library for the job), but that was hardly the same thing as having a live band. Certainly less impressive, and it lacked the ambiance Keiko no doubt wanted to provide her royal guests. This was, without a doubt, an absolutely awful turn of events…

A pang of guilt speared her, cold and cutting. She squashed it down, though, ignoring the nagging voice in the back of her head as it struggled to be heard — and either Botan had eats like a bat or was a little psychic herself, because she looked at Rei and brought up the exact damn thing Rei was trying very hard not to think about. Rei often thought of herself as a cat with nine lives, but it seemed she’d used up all her subject-avoidance chances for the day in her earlier preemptive deflection with Keiko. Fuck.

“Well, Fixer.” Botan’s magenta eyes opened wide and plaintive. “Any ideas Keiko knows the Demon Trio, but you know some entertainers of your own, don’t you? Maybe your burlesque friends have connections we could leverage?”

“Yeah.” Rei swallowed, studying her coffee cup. “Maybe.”

But ‘maybe’ was a damn lie, because Rei did have connections she could leverage. One in particular she had no doubt would come through for her in a flash, in fact. In spite of that certainty and her loyalty to Keiko both screaming at her to make the call, Rei did not get her phone out of her pocket. Instead she waited, sipping her coffee in silence while Botan fretted, until Keiko returned to the kitchen looking equal parts panicked and morose.

“Koto and the others are so busy, I can’t get a hold of them,” she said, slumping into a seat and putting her forehead on the table. “Their manager couldn’t even get them on the phone.”

“Oh no!” Botan turned to Rei again, looking more plaintive than ever. “Yamato? You said you maybe had something?”

Rei sucked in a breath. “Well — “

She started to say no, because dammit, that’s what she wanted to say, what she needed to say. But then Keiko swung hopeful eyes her way, and the words died on Rei’s lips.

“Yamato? Do you have an idea?” she asked.

And Rei's willpower crumbled like a sand castle on an angry shore, because Keiko’s tentative smile and pleading eyes cut to the heart and dissolved her defenses in one heavy wave. Rei sighed and patted her wig, slowly getting up from the table as a hollow formed in the pit of her belly.

“It’s not a sure thing, but yeah,” Rei said, every word heavy on her tongue. “There’s a call I can make.”

CLICK HERE TO READ THE REST OF CHAPTER 24 ON AO3!

[natalchartnurtures]

Mars Back Home

Note: This post might not give you anything new if you're at an intermediate or advanced level of being on the astrology wildride :p

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fire Mars, on a good day: "Inside me, there's a blazing fire that fuels me to take on challenges and make life my bitch. I'm all about calling the shots and forging the path to my desires and doing it my way"

Why?- Ah, Fire Mars. In his own territory, he becomes quite the showstopper, doesn't he? When realized in his higher octaves, he can be caught blazing his way through life, transforming and alchemiz-ing any old obstacle on his way to what he wants. The element of fire represents transformation, oh! and fun fact, Mars used to be the ruler of Scorpio before Pluto took its rightful place as the lord, okay? That's a big deal because it gives us yet another insight into Mars' true nature and potential. He's in his zone, he's home. So let's really get to know him.

Us tarot whores out here (I'm one too, by the way :p) will let you know that the Wands suit in tarot pertains to the fire element. The King of Wands, a figure we can liken to the higher octave energies of Mars, is seen as a figure who has command over energies, meaning he possesses great potential for manifestation—the raw-hands-in-the-clay, creating his reality. He's like the poster child for fiery energy– full of passion, willpower, leadership, courage, action, assertiveness, pioneering vibes, and oh, creativity. And get this, the connection to the non-physical? THROUGH the physical. Fire is about actions too. And for actions to happen, you need impulse. Ever wonder why fire signs are all about impulse? Yup, that's why. But here's the kicker though– when this impulse is divinely guided in its higher octave, it's a game-changer. Otherwise when it's your-own-mind-guided, it isn't nearly as great, trust me :p. But how cool is it? A connection to the non-physical through the physical? Isn't that interesting? Mars is quite a fascinating planet. Gosh. I love him.

so.. here are some ways how this glorious energy can show up.

Imagine this: You're in a class, the teacher asks for a volunteer, and everyone's like, "Nope, not me." but there's that one kid, heart pounding, who still raises their hand. That's Aries Mars for you– fearless, pioneering, action-oriented, and bolder than bold. Mars here bestows one with the potential to embody the divine masculine, nothing more and nothing less. He is sort of like a warrior that takes on everything with a certain adrenaline-induced spirit, which when channeled well can translate into wonderful things like assertive leadership. Honestly, what's hotter than that? If you've got Mars here, you'll probably discover yourself solely through active engagement with the world. It's how Mars here self-actualizes—pure action. Low-vibe Fire Mars might get called out for not finishing what they started, but a higher octave Aries Mars? You guys will see through anything you kick off. You've got drive, and once you set out for something, nothing can stop you. If something does, you''ll burn right through, no matter how long it takes. It's mesmerizing watching you sexy-ass people do your thing. Seriously, its incredibly hot! Ugh!

And then Mars can also waltz right in and charm your pants off, being all confident and being his self-assured daddy-ass self, shining brighter than the stars in the sky. Looking right at you, Leo Mars. Mars here loves to channel himself through the arts and creative pursuits of a similar note or simply have immaculate self-expression. Creativity almost becomes a drive with this Mars; it's so beautiful to watch Mars chase his dreams this way because the energy of Leo tends to add a certain drama to it, you know? A certain flair~. It's well known that Leo is a fixed sign, and also it being a fire sign, Mars here is gifted with a fire that is steady and just won't run off and get burnt out. It will keep burning until it reaches where it needs to be. Mars can get stubborn like that, and we don't have to guess what happens when passion meets stubborn. A bewildering drive to live, love and create the life of your dreams. Moving on, it's kind of obvious for me to talk about the leadership qualities of Leo Mars. Leo Mars is a leader, like he is a king. There's no subtler way to put it. You guys are leaders who lead with your heart—generous, people-focused, warm and loving, with a suave that gives you a royal air, naturally commanding respect. Which suits you anyway since Mars here takes a lot of pride in whatever he does. It's magnificent, truly.

Now, think of Bilbo Baggins on his adventure with Gandalf and friends. Got that picture? Now replace Bilbo with Mars. Ta-da! That's Sagittarius Mars for you. Here, Mars makes love to freedom, fun, and philosophy. It's a party out here. You humans are free spirits who only God can tie down, unless you peeps decide to settle, of course. You are risk-loving, positive-minded, adventure-sick sweetie pies who have a huge drive for life itself. Your action often aligns with some deep personal meaning, aka your personal philosophy of life. Your driving force is laced with a raw desire for freedom and endless expansion in every aspect of your lives. You guys are the kings and queens of dreaming big, and in doing so, inspiring the rest of us earthlings to aspire to move out of our comfort zones and to challenge ourselves to live life bigger than our regular ones—even if just by a little bit. Y'all embody a divine truth of the universe very well, and that is—expansion. It honestly moves me TO MY core to be in the presence of you divine beings. Keep celebrating yourselves (especially after you came out on top after that major risk you took :p) and keep living bold, honey.

So that was my take on the Fire Mars energies. It was a whole lot of fun writing this one because I reeeeeally do enjoy this energy :p

Time to cool off now. phew.

Hope you enjoyed it as much as i did writing it :]

Love and Light!

[chloreen]

There is much to be said about Fitzloved and that prophet-catalyst-master-servant-jester-warrior dynamic. But for me one of the most glorious and fitziest Fitz moments - purely Fitz!- was when Lant (no child in any world should be called Lantern) was like: 'Dont be daft, Perseverance. Of course we are not going to just waltz in there with our swords out and without a single thought in our heads. Fitz here is a man proved in combat and trained in the subtle and strategic art of being an assassin by Chade Starfall himself so surely he has a plan, right, Fitz? Fitz? F..? And Fitz was like: NO.

[chaosprinceundivided]

The Silverspined Ballat

Their laughter was a song in the wind of battle. Their every movement a capture of the weak-willed and passionate. Their sword a keen baton that conducted the symphony. The curvaceous giant danced on dainty feet, crushing bodies and claws disembowled in their spiralling acrobatics.

Jaz'mahnn Silverspine was the eye of the wild storm. Intestines flung and arches of fluids were abnormal in their flight and twists. Yet none of it touched beautiful hide nor armour. Long fleshed whiskers were serpents in water, glowing with the spots of the bioluminscous adoration fit of the deepal abyssal beasts below the seas. The warriors of Khorne hollered and screamed as he stamped and bounded.

The parade of seekers and hellstriders on their steeds were shimmering of many colors from their armour and hide, chitinous spears and lances of beautiful making impaled hearts and swept limbs free.

O Mother of mine

I dance in your glory

Sweet of ichor and thundrous of voice

I hear you call onto me

The storm of souls scream o so sweet

Listen

The rhythmic crashes of their own hooves crashing with the landing of screaming hellcannon munitions.

Listen

Earth becoming scarred of blood-filling craters.

Listen~!

Hellscourges crack their heinous tendrils, carving into flesh, coiling throats and tearing sanguine free with spine-quivering screams of agony and rage.

O Mother, I give onto you my tribute

Of the Pain of Wrath and Excess of Their Souls Aplenty

The chorus of his armour-clad maidens danced and dueled with their blood-hide cousins, claws of gleaming keen blades and swords of envy-ensuring malice against burning swords of hell. Death of the body meant nothing, all dedicated to the art of battle between the two. Even their final breathes were of art.

Filthy Cousins Ours

Mud-eating Brutes

Monotonous callers of Throne-settled Bore

Gluttons of Bloods

Hoarders of Skulls

Each height of their vocals matched by their ferocity. The armies of garnished violet and pinks crashing and waltzing with scarlet and brass.

Mortal warriors smashing, their individualism becoming a heinous tide of true chaos into a sickening crash of rival seas meeting and melding with their blood becoming the paint that Jazmahnn stroked. The Exalted Keeper of Secrets danced in the mists of freed souls, inhaling it all while lifting a Chaos Lord in a hand. Their eyes looking as tender as a love and voice a woman's confession.

Deep, O Mother. Do we love them.

Deep we desire, Deep down...we desire their everything.

We shall take them...till there is nothing~

Her voice so beautiful, full bottom lip coming to kiss on the Lord of Khorne's warbands while her long clawed fingers splayed him out despite all of that musclebound struggle. A mere toy to her desire. The struggle weakening. A sigh before one opening of fingers crushing the lord like a canned perserve. The hellplate buckled and crumbled, puncturing and rupturing the muscles and iron bones, the sweet essence falling into the opening maw unhinging to reveal the twinned sets of teeth and the yawning gullet, flexing into each loud gulp.

The hate-burning fire of blessed blood glowing into his breast. The slide of violin strings and heightening vocals harmonizing to the sweet bliss as Jaz'mahnn leaned back to enjoy every drop, more of the chaos lord's essence being draining by the mere hold.

Then a great force slammed into the battlefield, throwing a torrent of earth and fire at Jaz'mahnn. Only to be parted by the daemon, eyes slowly blinking and greeting the inevitable.

A great being musclebound, clad in armour of war's truth. Wings screwed with plating and hanging with countless skulls and heads. A horned head thrusting forward, billowing a roar that shook the earth and resolve of lesser creatures, stirring its followers as true as the great axe in its popping fist.

Jaz'mahnn smiled sultrily with a slow lick of his flayed tongue.

O Mother of Ours,

I love you for your gift onto us

Give me your blood, O Hateful Cousin of Mine

The Bloodthirster howled, charging with the earth scorching under hoof. Man and daemon crushed under. Jaz'mahnn waved his hand and the body in his grip lengthening like melting wax, armour becoming coiling motif. Sword swaying in salute and claws splaying out in mating invitation.

Give me your Hatred So Pure!

The axe swung and Jaz'mahnn bowed without breaking his regality, arms swung out in a graceful flow outward whilst swaying from downward arc to cleave him from spine to nap. His own blade caressed gauntlet to summon beautiful sparks and sprayed it in the Bloodthirster's eyes. The snarl of frustration as a hand reached to rub the shards from his gaze, only to find a spiked knee crashing into snout.

Give me your Rage Unbound!

Deftly twisting and leaping into the air like an acrobatic elf, ribbons of ichor trailing after as the Bloodthirster howled with magmatic blood spewing from his pierced snout, already healing wound.

Why must we hate one another, O Crimson Cousin Mine?

Jaz'mahnn righted himself as the Thirster beated his wings to chase after the spindly rival, only for the impossibly light creature land on his shoulders and back. The morphed corpse-turned-whip snapped and coiled around the red devil's weapon-arm. Blade slipping between cuirass and pauldron, piercing tendons and joints. A great claw snapped around a horn, yanking the Bloodthirster around as he bucked and flung around like a wild bull.

Why don't you bow before your better, Dog of Khorne!?

You whom so obedient to your Master! Do you know when you are before Perfection Manifest!?

The Bloodthirster yanked, trying to dislodge the Keeper but Jaz'mahnn had him coiled to the point it started to climb the skies.

Do you love that collar on your neck so? Do you feel his chain yanking for you~?

Higher and higher, beholding the eternally stretching landscape of the realm chosen for this battle. Until the daemon twisted and two fell...fell...spiralling.

Do you love him or do you obey like a Good Dog, Slave of Khorne?

They were becoming engulfed into a twin-tailed comet of vibrant floral colours and roaring black flame.

We are the same, you and I ~

O Cousin, so passionate, how I love you sooo-

When the comet was about to tear the earth asunder, it suddenly twisted and tore through ranks of daemons and men before crashing into the mountain of reaching cavader of a god long dead.

I love the taste of your blood on my tongue.

From the burning ruin, Jaz'mahnn rose with a stumble of broken limb popping itself back right.

The Hatred distilled for my perfume.

The Bloodthirster, with his throat wide open and chest wide open by his own axe. Panting in the sensation of mortal exortion, a lie of sensation haunting his failing presence. Foot on its heft, pushing deeper. Claw holding horn and its twin snapping its glowing bladed ends open.

I will sing of this ballad, O Cousin Sweet.

Drawing back.

Deep in the Void, Remember Me O Cousin Mine.

Rage in the Blackness, Be my Tribute and Choke on Defeat.

[marlutterianae]

Bosco the Flayer of Fiends.

Sealed by the eldritch epidermal embracer, flayed and carved meticulously from the carcasses of slain fiends, The Butcher of Phobos musters up the primal pulsations of the Flesh Suit, becoming a beast chimeric predation, humanity sealed under skin.

Daggers ready to unleash the Slayer's Flourish, an exaltation of his muscle fibers that extend his sensorial reception in order to react with uncanny grace, to emerge from the miasmic veiling of volcanic fumes, preparing the the warrior's waltz against his stalked prey, coveting its cranium and carnal mantle.

"A worth of a hunter measured by its baneful blood-shot eyes! Mutated to see through bodies! Measured greatly by its thick disguising second flesh that mysteriously masks its terrifying truth! Secrets cloaked beneath the epidermal veil! Yet his void remains unfilled and his senses not keened! Mutilated hopes whose pieces are nailed down in its fractured psyche! Come, Butcher, Flayer of Fiends! Pick up the pieces of your glory, even when daylight's lethal when the mind is not free!"

Songs of Glory by Praetoria Gloriosa - The Flying Butcher of Phobos.

Art by Ahmonza: https://x.com/Ahmonza12 / https://www.artstation.com/ahmonza

[adampage]

April 2011 - March 28, 2023. Rest in Peace, Mittens. lovingly referred to as Mitty, Mickey, Asshole, and You Fucking Bastard. Oh, and Pinche Gato.

To the little kitten we found in the parking lot of chick-fil-a, in the arms of two young hispanic boys who had just saved him from the wheels of a car and had no idea what to do with him.

He was a little asshole since the day he learned to open doors with his paws, but he was always the gentleman. He wouldn’t go in to my parent’s bedroom until my mother told him he could enter (he did not do me the same courtesy). Very vampiric of him, I gotta say. He fought with his older brother, Tito, who is not in these pictures because he’s been gone a long while now. But he paid for it with Ginger (the little sandy one in the above pics), who learned the art of going for the throat by practicing on Mickey.

He was the protector of the garden, always marking his territory and walking the perimeter of the fence like it was his sworn duty. He was a bloodthirsty warrior, always fighting with the wandering tomcats that should dare to waltz into his lord’s home uninvited. He was kind to the young and the old girlies that lived under his roof, allowing himself to be pushed off his food when they wanted a wee bit more. And most importantly, he was just an annoying talkative guy, which is all that you can hope for in a cat.

He is survived by his girlfriend Rosalie, aka Rosita, his older sister Kitty, who will surely outlive them all (sitting in my lap), and his little sister Ginger, who most definitely had a lil bit of a Daemon/Rhaenyra thing goin on with him. He is buried beneath the garden palm tree, to the right hand of his older brother.

We love you, you little bastard. I hope you’re lounging on a garden wall next to Tito somewhere in the stars. Save a spot for me. Cheers.

[solsticewcrp]

CLASH OF THE ECLIPSED MOON

[Art by @tinypop]

As our Applications for Solstice run [here], perhaps a story from the past will pique your interest. Gather round cats of the Mountains for a tale played out not too many generations ago..

Many moons ago, BloomClan lost their leader Lionsun. Famed for bravery, victory and nobility, Lionsun was a beloved leader that was always going to be a tough act to follow for any BloomClan cat, though few could imagine the dark omens that Lionsun's death would herald. Lionsun was succeeded by deputy Scarletrise, then going on to become Scarletsun. BloomClan's new leader swept the Clan like a heatwave, it was clear that after the turmoils the Clan had just faced with Lionsun's death and the wolf attacks that Scarletsun had big plans for his reign and intended to act upon them without a second to spare. His reasoning was that after so long being the prey in their own territory, they must become the hunters: proactive, ruthless and proud. This ideology would prove deadly. Over time Scarletsun sent out orders for BloomClan to begin taking over more and more territory that was previously deemed neutral ground, much to the ire of BlizzardClan's leaders. Tensions grew at Gatherings are new 'borders' were not respected, and the heat began to rise between the two Clans until it stoked the flames of war. The next BlizzardClan patrol that wandered into the Pinewood Falls was brutally attacked, multiple dying in the assault and forcing BlizzardClan to retreat. Lostmoon of BlizzardClan launches an attack and is killed in the process. The next BlizzardClan leader, Vinemoon, also dies under suspicious circumstances as the war wages on and many in BlizzardClan are eager to look to BloomClan as their fatal enemy. The war would wage on for many moons, with lives on both sides taken in the process. BlizzardClan's newest leader, Crescentmoon, is wise and refuses to be done in the way xyr predecessors have been. Despite this, Crescentmoon is righteously furious- the deaths of xeir Clanmates at the paws of a tyrant weigh heavy on xem and it causes xem to make mistakes, to lack caution where xyr should be careful. Eventually, Crescentmoon finds xemself unmatched, with paws backed up to the precipice. Several of xyr Clanmates have fallen to the avalanche ambush that Scarletsun had set for them. Nobody knows for sure how the exchange proceeded, no one was close enough to hear, though if they were...they may have heard something like this... Crescentmoon backed up against the ledge, eyes dilated in fear and fury as xyr gaze darted from the advancing tom and the surging snow just behind and below xem. Xey were exhausted, fur ragged and bloody from xyr own wounds as the fight between two leaders had waged on for what felt like moons. One more step back and xey'd be finished- xey couldn't let it end like this! BlizzardClan had been persecuted for long enough! But Crescentmoon could see the madness in xyr fellow leader's eyes. Scarletsun wouldn't stop until Crescentmoon and xyr Clan were extinct. "Call yourself a leader?!" Scarletsun gloated, claws extending from their sheathes and raking across the stone as the ruddy red tom stalked towards xem. "I'd call you prey! You waltzed into that trap like a dazed rabbit- and you have the gall to equate yourself to me, Crescentpuddle?" Crescentmoon could feel the blood in xyr veins turning to a boil. Xey were sure xyr irises were turning into a vengeful red to match the eyes of xyr adversary, a low growl forming in xyr throat as xyr spine arched in defiance. "I do call myself a leader, Scarletsun. I have far more passion and aptitude for the sport than you do, anyway. I've seen your Warriors at Gatherings, they're cowed to you like twoleg dogs on vines! They obey you, but they don't respect you. What kind of a life is that for a leader?!" On instinct, Crescentmoon moved to take a step back, finding the cliff crumbling behind xem and forcing a step closer. "Ohh but that's what you never understood, what none of your filth understood. Leadership isn't about respect, it's about making sure you've carved yourself in memory. Beloved, loathed. It won't matter in the end, old friend. All that matters..."

Scarletsun leaped into the air, claws extended and eyes wild. "IS THAT I'LL BE REMEMBERED, AND YOU'LL BE FORGOTTEN!" Fear lashed at Crescentmoon's heart as the crazed BloomClan leader sprang at xem, and it felt as if time had slowed. On the air, Crescentmoon swore xey could taste the lingering smells of fae scent- fresh growth and mulchy soil mingling together into a strange bouquet as Seelie and Unseelie clashed like water and oil. Crescentmoon felt strength fill xem as the weight of xyr ancestors fell into xyr limbs. In a rapid sweep of movement, Crescentmoon rolled onto xyr side and out of the way, letting Scarletsun's momentum carry him sliding forwards towards the edge. Scarletsun whirled around just in time to see Crescentmoon leap at him from the side, caterwauling in fury as the two cats collided in a whirlwind of teeth and claws.

Finally, Crescentmoon felt xyr teeth meet in Scarletsun's scruff. Putting all of xyr effort and all of xyr rage into one motion, Crescentmoon flung the despicable tom into the coursing avalanche below, his screech of fear and fury snuffed out like the sun as the moon rises.

Panting with adrenaline and exhaustion, Crescentmoon collapsed on the rocky outcrop. It was done. It was over. That terrible, terrible war could become just another memory now. Though Scarletsun's parting words echoed in his thoughts like rats among wheatgrass. Was that really all he wanted? To be infamous?

Something tells him there was more to it than BloomClan's leader had let on, and while the consciousness of xyr fourth life faded, Crescentmoon couldn't help the foreboding that grew in xyr belly for the moons to come...